Neurospasta
by Togale
Summary: A possessed Dante is more than Trish and Lady are able to handle. Nero is more than eager to help but he has no clue what he is getting himself into.
1. Prologue

**Warnings:** Homosexual Pairing (NxDxN), Strong Language, Violence, Blood/Gore

**Disclaimer:** I do not own DMC4, and I make no money from this story.

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A/N: this is going to be a nasty piece of writing. If you are not into the violent, bloody type of fiction, if you prefer some fluffy, sappy stuff hit the back arrow. - still here? oh well, guess I can't scare you huh? let's see...

- A huge thank you _Blood of Dusk_ for helping me with this story.

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**Prologue **

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The night Trish called would be engraved into Nero's memories for the rest of his life. The women he remembered as Gloria until he had caught a short glimpse of her true form, standing behind Dante in front of the Savior, had offered him little of an overdue greeting after nearly half a year of silence between Fortuna and Capulet City. But it was the sound of worry and fear in her voice that made him forget about that little detail. "What happened?" He asked before she could even begin to persuade him to come. She had him as soon as he knew who she was. And he knew this was not a social call.

That night, he left a note for Kyrie explaining that he went to see Dante, and even though she shouldn't worry about him, he couldn't give her the date of his return. Nero knew she would understand. Kyrie had a gentle soul, and she had been the first to notice his kind nature that caused him to aid everyone in need even though he tried his hardest to hide that side of him sometimes.

"_I can't explain right now. There is no time. Nero, I need you here in Capulet. Please, there is no one else I could ask_." He took the ferry at sunrise, her voice still fresh in his mind.

While Dante had paid him a few short visits after their encounter with Sanctus to check on how things were going, as he had said it, Nero had never been to Capulet City in return. Things had been too busy for him to leave. The city was still virtually lying in ruins, and he still had demons to hunt which were wandering the city boarders and the remaining forest that was slowly dying without the influence of the gate.

As soon as Nero reached the outskirts of Capulet City, he called Trish to ask her for directions for the shop he knew Dante owned there. It took her a while to answer the phone, and Nero had already feared he had the wrong number. When she finally answered, he could hear noise in the background like furniture being demolished and angered, muffled screams. They made his skin crawl with goosebumps as he recognized the voice as Dante's.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised her.

"Yes, please hurry." And the line was disconnected.

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Capulet City was huge in comparison to Fortuna but Nero took no time to admire the buzzing city. His mind was preoccupied. He almost missed his turn at the next corner that would lead him to the northern part of the residential area. His bike roared in protest, tires screeching as he cut off another car to make the turn. The angry sounds of horns followed him down the road, but he paid them no mind. Nero didn't mind breaking some rules. He had the tendency to speed, and his fast reflexes inveigled him to push his trustworthy, customized Harley to its limit. It had never let him down so far.

He ran the directions again through his head. Down the main street, right turn at the pool bar, left at the next traffic light and again right at the liquor store. Follow the 66 Slum Avenue until you reach the shop at the end. Slum Avenue it was, and it lived up to its name. The further he came, the more uninviting his surroundings became. He spotted the pink neon sign at the end and knew he had finally reached his goal. The ambiguity of what would await him left Nero anxious. He felt his heart racing.

How long had it been since he had seen the older hunter the last time? Six months, maybe more. A lot had happened in the meantime. More than once he had thought about calling Dante, but he had never done so. He couldn't bring himself to do it since he had been afraid the older male would catch on to the things Nero wanted to keep hidden—the things between them.

The Harley came to a smooth halt in front of the shop, and Nero sat back and listened. He picked up the disturbing presence of demons. Two of them, at least, he guessed by the slight tremble in his Devil Bringer. One somehow familiar but not so much that he could place the feeling at first guess. _Trish,_ he concluded. The other one, he had no idea. It was disturbingly powerful though - threatening.

Nero got off his bike and made his way to the door. _Still no sound. _He didn't like that. Red Queen rested encouragingly on his back, her weight intimate to his mind. He reached out and pushed the double doors open with his Devil Bringer. His left hand grabbed Blue Rose, ready to face whatever awaited him there.

Blood—the unmistakable smell of fresh blood assaulted his olfactory centre like an onslaught. The shop reeked of it, and it made Nero press the back of his right hand under his nose, and he took a deep breath through his mouth instead. "Gosh…" His eyes darted around the reception area. The floor was covered in dark spots and smears of the still red, shiny liquid that would soon turn into auburn stains. He could see some charred marks which had been close to starting a fire inside the building but luckily never had passed the smoldering stage. Bullet holes, lots of them, caused by heavy guns: guns like Dante's.

He remembered Ebony and Ivory, the two twin guns of the older devil hunter. He had admired them every time he laid his eyes on them. Dante had customized them until they no longer found an equal, and Nero had wished more than once to know the secret of upgrading such powerful weapons. He had learned to infuse his own shots with the power his Devil Bringer possessed, but he still needed bullets—lots of them.

His careful steps stopped in the middle of the room as he spotted Rebellion. The broadsword was stabbed deep into the floor right next to the staircase, its blade smeared with blood. Nero strode over and reached for the grip, though a loud sound from downstairs made him stop. It came from the basement. Nero focused his keen hearing. Growling—deep throated inhuman growling and the rattle of chains. "No you won't! Not again!" Trish's voice. Now that he had found what he was looking for, Nero hurried his steps to join the blond demoness.

"Trish," he called. The basement of Dante's shop was unexpectedly huge. Two large rooms with sparse light provided by one bare dirty light bulb on each ceiling. The first room was stuffed with boxes and other things that apparently had no room in the shop but were too valuable to get rid of. The second was almost bare. Nero could see a single shelf at the far end with books and jars, candles and other occult things. It smelled like sulfur and herbs in there. And blood.

"Nero—thank god you made it!" And there she was. Trish had turned around to the sound of his voice, relief written all over her face. She looked exhausted, he noticed—that, and worried. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, drenched in blood. And then he saw the cause of it; behind her slender frame stood Dante. Nero suppressed a gasp that threatened to leave his mouth. The older hunter stood with his back against the wall, his hands chained above his head by a curious looking weapon. It had a blue glow to it, a tripartite nunchaku that radiated an unnatural cold that left a thin layer of frost on the captured hunter's wrists. Dante didn't speak, for the piece of cloth that had been forced into his mouth and knotted behind his head prevented him from forming coherent words. He, too, was covered in blood, and although Nero knew of the ability of rapid healing that Dante and Trish possessed, he could imagine the extent of wounds needed for this kind of bloodshed. It must have been a fierce battle between the two of them.

"What happened?" He took a step closer, facing Dante. The older hunter looked at him with gleaming eyes. His lips pulled back in a snarl around the cloth, causing wrinkles between his eyes. He growled again. "Fuck, Dante. Don't snarl at me. It's just me, old man." That caused the trapped hunter to pull at his chains as if he intended to bring the wall behind him down in the process. Nero narrowed his eyes, unsure what to say.

"He can't hear you," Trish said coldly. "That's not Dante anymore."

"What?" Shock as well as disbelief made his voice sound harsh.

"Come—we don't have much time." That said, she turned on her heels and led Nero upstairs again. He closed the door behind him. If the demon inside Dante's body would get free in their absence, he would notice it even if he wasn't in the same room. His ears would pick up the sound. If not, the possessed hunter still had to pass by them(pass them by?) if he intended to flee. Right now Nero needed some answers.

"Are you alright?" He watched her almost collapsing onto the now ripped up sofa. Trish looked tired, not only physically but also emotionally.

"Yes, I'm okay. Don't worry. He didn't get me," she reassured.

He remained standing, too agitated to sit down. Nero crossed his arms in front of his chest, weight shifting to one leg and, after a moment, restlessly back to the other. He could hear Dante downstairs again. The older hunter growled and thrashed against his bindings.

"Tell me what happened," the young half demon said.

"We still don't know for sure. It happened two days ago on a job. We teamed up—Dante, Lady and I. It sounded easy enough. Track down a group of demons at the area around the Temen-ni-gru and get rid of them. Well, we found them. Maybe ten or twelve demons hidden in human form. The weaker ones shed the skin of their victims almost immediately, and we killed them. The leader was another story though. We had to hunt him across the area and almost lost him when Dante finally confronted him. They fought, and you know Dante. He told us to stay out of it… that he wanted to finish it alone." A faint smile spread onto her dry lips, and Nero frowned but let her continue. "We let him, and even though he got injured, it wasn't anything serious. He killed the demon, but, then, he changed all of a sudden. Lady noticed it first and asked him if he was alright. That's when he attacked her. You don't know her yet, but although she is a human, she can usually take care of herself. Nevertheless, Dante got her in the end and broke her leg. We managed to capture him. This afternoon, he got free from his chains, but I managed somehow to chain him back up. That's not Dante down there, Nero. If it was him, I wouldn't have been able to take him down alone. He fights differently from how he used to, and even though it's his voice, it's not him who is talking. That demon must have him under some kind of spell… Or worse: possessed him."

"Possession?" he asked, clearly worried. He had never encountered demonic possession before. He thought he had when he first had to face Credo, but he soon realized that the man he had once called brother suffered from his own twisted ego and not some kind of demonic spell.

"I must do some research on this, but I can't leave him alone. I'm sorry to ask you this, Nero, but I need you to watch him. He is dangerous, so don't let your guard down around him. You're the only one I could ask." He had known that the moment she had called him. He wouldn't let her down.

"Don't worry about it. I'll stay." His head turned back to the door leading down into the basement. It had become suspiciously quiet down there.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I have a personal score to settle with the old man anyway. So count me in." Trish nodded and stood up again.

"I'll check on him later. Hopefully, I'll find something until then. Remember: don't let him get to you. He might not be Dante right now, but he sure is powerful." He knew she was right about that. Whatever they had trapped down there in the basement, it was powerful enough to make his Devil Bringer tremble in anticipation.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: and we are back... regarding the complains I got about squeezing this short (it will be) story in between 'l sol tace at such a point, well, I feel like I have to since I've already written the next chapter of 'lst twice and deleted it again. As Nefarious Seraph 13 once told me, I am close to the point where I have to set the rating up to M content and I try not to, thehe... but the way it was written before was clearly over the top and so I'll get rid of some of that urge for blood and violence in here. - you have been warned before :P

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**Chapter I**

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Wary, Nero made his way back downstairs. Trish had left with the promise to return as soon as possible. He hoped it would be soon. Thinking about a possessed Dante made Nero worry. He had seen what the older hunter was capable of, and it was something to behold. Knowing that someone else could use that kind of power left a sickening feeling inside Nero's stomach. He had to be careful. And they'd better find a way to bring Dante back—fast. Said half demon had stopped his struggle against Cerberus' chains and now stood, slumped forward, at the wall, his weight supported by the devil arm. His head hung low, and his snowy hair hid most of his face. Nero approached him slowly, prepared for some kind of trap, but the older male hadn't freed himself from the chains. Nero could still see the ice around Dante's wrists. He could already see the first symptoms of frostbite spreading up to the older male's hands. It made Nero swallow thinking about the damage that such an entrapment would cause his friend. He really hoped demonic rapid healing would prevent Dante from any kind of permanent damage.

He could hear Dante groan softly now. The shop owner lifted his head and pale eyes focused on Nero. The young man couldn't see any hostility in them. Instead, he found confusion. Dante blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear it and let out a pained moan, muffled from the piece of cloth between his teeth as the movement strained his arms and hands. Nero took a step closer and stood right in front of his friend, who tried to look him in the eye from his position. Dante attempted to speak, but the younger male couldn't make out what he wanted to say. He could see however the cold sweat running down Dante's temples and forehead, and he could hear the pained hastened breaths.

"Dante?" Nero didn't dare to get his hopes up. It could be a trap. It had to be. Trish had warned him not to let his guard down. But what if it wasn't? What if Dante finally regained his consciousness and got rid of the demonic influence? More muffled words came from the older hunter and some pulling at his chains that caused a pained cry.

"Stop moving. You'll make it worse," Nero tried to reason with him. Incomprehension was written on that pained, handsome face in front of him.

"Nneenlo…" Was he trying to call his name? Nero's eyes widened at the sound of it.

"Dante?" He reached out to the captivated man but didn't dare to touch him yet. The older leaned more forward to close the gap between the outstretched hand and himself and groaned in pain caused by the movement. Nero flinched back but couldn't take it anymore as he heard something like a whimper coming from the prone figure in front of him. He pulled the piece of cloth from Dante's mouth and tried to look the older man in the eye. Another groan escaped Dante's lips as he finally leaned back against the wall again to relieve the strain in his tortured arms. Panting he locked his gaze with Nero's as if he was searching for answers in the younger male's face.

"What happened," he rasped out. "Why am I chained?"

"You don't remember?" Nero's thoughts were racing. What was happening?

"No. Urgh… Let me go already." He pulled again but stopped as the pain flared again inside his bound wrists.

"Sorry, I can't do that." Pale eyes narrowed at the young hunter at those words.

"The fuck? C'mon Nero. That's not funny." Nero could see the anger rising inside Dante.

"Yeah, I know. But remember when we first met? You did the same. Consider it payback, old man." He watched closely for any kind of emotion in Dante's face.

"Heh, that's no fun. You've got to think of your own pranks, Nero."

"Right," The ex-knight pulled Blue Rose and pressed her against Dante's temple. "Son of a bitch, who are you and what do you want?" A smirk tore at Dante's lips; his eyes gleamed at the younger male.

"What gave me away?"

"Maybe you should do your research next time, bastard. Now answer the question, or I'll blow a hole into your head and see if that's gonna get rid of ya." It was an empty threat, and, unfortunately, his counterpart knew it.

"Come and try then," he dared Nero. The younger male let go of the trigger of his revolver and gritted his teeth. The smirk on Dante's face widened at this. It caused Nero to flex his claws of his right hand and hit the older hunter. Dante's head jerked to the side, blood dripping from his lips but the smirk remained.

"Not so brave anymore, I see." Growling in frustration, Nero pulled the piece of fabric up and between Dante's teeth again.

The demon tried to talk to him again after that, but Nero refused to listen. The young hunter sat down across the room on the floor with his knees pulled up and his back leaned against the cold wall. Blue Rose rested in his lap and Red Queen leaned against his shoulder. His eyes scanned the room, desperately trying to find something to distract him but flashed back to the chained man ever so often. He wanted to get out of here, erase the images from his memories. He would probably never be able to, but he had to try at least. The young man didn't remove the gag from his prisoner again. It spared him from whatever the demon possessing Dante's body had to say, but it didn't prevent the other sounds. He heard them all; sounds of pain, anger and even something that could only be described asa mixture of sobbing and begging. Dante wouldn't beg. It was something that had never crossed Nero's mind, and he wished it had stayed that way. Time ticked away slowly as he waited. How long had he been down here? He couldn't say. It could have been hours or mere minutes. Without any windows, there was no way to tell.

The chains rattled again. Nero's blue eyes were half hidden behind his pale hair as they focused back on his captive. Once again the demon tried to get free. By now it was certain that Cerberus' chains wouldn't break regardless how much he twisted and pulled, but maybe the wall behind him would. The demonic nunchaku was looped through a steel ring that was affixed to the wall. Nero was sure Dante's body had the strength to rip it off the wall eventually. It seemed only the cold radiating from Cerberus prevented that from happening.

"Cut it out," Nero said as the rattling didn't stop this time. His voice sounded too soft in his own ears – too tired. He could hear pieces of ice falling to the floor and forced breaths. One of Dante's legs was mortised against the wall behind him as he used his body weight and the strength of his legs to fight against the chains. "I said cut it out!" Nero repeated louder this time only to be ignored again. The ex-knight stood up as a strangled cry echoed across the room accompanied by a clearly audible cracking of bones. The smell of blood assaulted Nero's nose again. It was dripping down Dante's wrists. The damaged, nearly frozen skin had been ripped open from the strain, and his wrist bones had snapped. Angry about how careless the demon inside Dante was with its temporary body, Nero stalked over to the older man.

"Stand still or I swear I'll make sure they won't heal properly, and you'll regret every movement," he hissed and gripped the cold wrists to feel the breaks. He locked his eyes with Dante's. He remembered staring into them when they first met. The nostalgic feeling was very much unwelcome right now. He couldn't afford sympathy for a demon only because it possessed the body of the man he cared for. "Are we clear?" He increased the pressure as a warning while his thumbs trailed over the oppressed skin, pressing bones back into their proper places. He could feel them grinding against each other, and the eyes in front of him widened in pain. Nero had wanted to hurt Dante before, repeatedly. But that had been different circumstances. The older man had deserved a few good punches back then. So did the demon in front of him now but it disturbed Nero that he had to hurt Dante's body for it. As he received a curt nod, Nero let go of the wrists. He turned around to get back to his observation spot and took a deep breath to calm himself, but it only bestowed upon him more of the smell of Dante's blood. His gaze fell on his hands now stained with the red liquid. _Great_, he thought, _just great_. As if it wasn't hard enough already to deal with the situation. He suppressed the urge to lift his fingers to his lips to get a taste and wiped them on his jeans. Sitting down next to Red Queen again, Nero sighed and rested his Devil Bringer on his right knee. If only Trish would come back.

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In the end, it had been two days since Trish had left Dante in Nero's care until she could return. Nero had dreaded every minute. Good thing neither his nor Dante's body would die of starvation so easily. He hadn't dared to free the older male, and he himself had only left the basement for a few minutes each to get some water or relieve himself in the bathroom upstairs. Taking a shower sounded like a pure luxury at that moment. His sense of smell was already accustomed to blood and sweat by then, and in addition to the stiff feeling of his clothes, it made Nero want to retch. Luckily, the skin on Dante's wrists hadn't started to rot, or he was sure he wouldn't have been able to help himself otherwise.

"So how do we kill that thing?" By then, he was more than desperate to hear about her findings, and he knew that Trish's patience ran as thin as his own. They both stood upstairs in front of the closed door to the basement in order to remain unheard by the imprisoned man.

"We kill the host." There was no emotion in her voice as she suggested killing Dante.

"We – _what_? No, Trish – no! We can't do that. We went this far to free him from that demon for fuck's sake."

"Calm down, Nero. If there was any other way, I swear, I would try that instead. You know I would, but there isn't. I've searched everywhere, but it's the only method ever mentioned. And honey, I know it sounds bad but it's Dante, remember? I have seen him impaled with his own sword more times than I want to remember, and even ifI had my doubts, he survived every time. We have to trust that this time won't be any different."

"But what if it will be different this time? What if that thing possessing him has changed something in him?" True, Nero hadn't witnessed anything indicating that Dante's demonic healing was being messed up by the possession, but, still, there was no way to be sure.

"It's his only choice, sweetie. And I know he would risk it." He knew she was right about that, he admitted, and his shoulders fell in defeat.

"You sure this will work?" He lifted Red Queen onto his shoulder. He was just seeking reassurance to calm his own consciousness; he knew it but did nothing against it. She couldn't know for sure. He was just being egotistical.

"No, but it's said to be the only method to kill this kind of demon."

"And the hosts?" Why did he even ask? He knew the answer anyway, and it wouldn't do him any good to hear it.

"They all died." She saw the muscles in his jaw working as he gritted his teeth. No, Nero wasn't happy with her solution but his resolve was there nevertheless. Nero took a forced, deep breath and reassured his grip on Red Queen before he turned around and opened the door.

"Let's do it," he said and let her follow him downstairs again.

Dante was still where he had left him downstairs. He had heeded Nero's warning and hadn't tried to escape since then. In fact, he had been a bit too calm for Nero's liking. The ex-knight was almost sure the demon was plotting something again. He had to act before anything could go wrong. Heaving a deep sigh, Nero made his way over to the older hunters form, Red Queen in hand. He could use Blue Rose, he knew, but he had felt the urge to use his trustworthy sword instead. Maybe it was because he could control every motion if he used it, or maybe it was because it triggered the memory of him impaling Dante back in Fortuna. He wasn't sure; all he knew was that he needed every bit of comfort he could get at that moment. _You have to stop his heart_, Trish had said. She was now standing behind him, observing so she could intervene if something went wrong.

"I'm sorry, old man. You'll be alright. I promise." Nero gritted his teeth as his grip on Red Queen became harder, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He didn't rev the sword but pierced it as steady as he could into the skin of the thrashing man in front of him, stabbing his chest. He could hear the muffled scream and the wide, pale eyes were begging him to stop. He almost did. But this was his last chance. Nero knew if he stopped now, he wouldn't have the courage to try again. "I'm sorry," he gritted out as his blade slit under Dante's ribcage, seeking his beating heart… And it stopped.

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"Urgh…" Dante hated that feeling. It had become a constant, painful companion in his life—the feeling of cold steel embedded into his chest. The first few heartbeats were the most agonizing, and he was always thankful for whatever additional damage to his body caused him to stay in the calming arms of unconsciousness a moment longer to miss them. But most of the time, he had no such luck. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the boot clad feet of the young demon hunter he always seemed to remember. And then it came back to him. The memories caused rising panic in him. He had attacked Lady and Trish after that demon had taken over his mind. He remembered Nero being there and the moment the young man had apologized to him before he had used Red Queen to impale his heart. And sure as hell the same blade was still sticking out of his chest. He followed the sharp edge dripping with blood with his eyes until a pale hand came into view, gripping the handle. But his ice blue eyes didn't continue their journey up the young mans body. Instead they snapped to Nero's Devil Bringer and the blond shock of hair that was captured in a deadly grip. Trish kneeled at the floor, slumped forward bonelessly, only being held upright by the demonic claws gripping her hair. There was blood pooling underneath her, dripping from her face which Dante couldn't see, and she didn't move. "Trish," his raspy voice called out, but she didn't stir. His eyes snapped up to Nero, but all he could see for a moment were those twisted red lips grinning down at him and he _knew_. "You bastard! You switched!" A cold hearted laugh reached his ears, one that he hadn't thought Nero would be capable of.

"Too easy," Nero said with a sneer. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"


End file.
